Nile Rodgers: playing on through the good times and the bad
He is behind some of the biggest hits of the past few decades. Now Chic’s guitar hero tells JOE NERSSESSIAN about surviving cancer twice, caring for an ailing mother and why his music appeals to the young
AN AURA of cool surrounds one of the greatest producers, guitarists and songwriters of the past five decades. I caught up with Nile Rodgers on the phone from his home studio in Connecticut. He is remarkable company, even 3,300 miles away over a crackly line. He reels off numerous Miles Davis anecdotes (with a fantastic impersonation) and heaps praise on a number of British artists he’s worked with recently.
But largely the 35-minute conversation is dominated by an astonishingly open discussion about the 65-year-old’s latest cancer battle and his ailing mother.
He was born Nile Gregory Rodgers Jr in September 1952 to Beverley Goodman, who fell pregnant with him when she was just 13. Along with his stepfather, Bobby, she was a heavy heroin user and Nile left home at 14.
A year later, he picked up a guitar and his life changed forever. An astounding musician emerged, a pioneer of disco, funk and ultimately dance music. From helping David Bowie discover his groove in 1982 to unmistakable guitar on top of a tight bass on Daft Punk’s Get Lucky in 2013, Nile still has it.
He beat cancer in December for the second time. In 2010, Nile was diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer and became vehemently public with his treatment. He started a blog providing almost daily updates, giving birth to an online community. Survivors, sufferers and relatives who had lost loved ones shared stories and messages of support.
He found it beautiful, but also emotionally overwhelming and recalls the death of one friend in particular. This “hot girl who worked at the hippest clubs in New York City”, he says in a typically sexy Nile tone.
At the funeral, her husband approached him in tears and revealed he had been reading to her from the blog when she died.
“The last words she heard were mine,” he says. “The blog helped me to not worry about myself so much but I stopped doing it because people were depending on me more than I wanted them to. Everyone started calling me and saying, ‘Nile, I can’t believe I was just diagnosed with this’.
“I’m not a cancer expert, I’m not even a Nile expert. I’m a Nile
journeyman novice.” Pausing, he continues: “It was killing me, it made me feel that I didn’t have to walk that journey alone. But then people started to want me to hold their hand through the journey and that became a little bit painful when people started to pass away.”
It’s been 25 years since the last Chic album and over the past four years Nile has been promising the aptly named ‘It’s About Time’ is just around the corner. He reiterates that message of hope, describing the album as “pretty much finished” and says his latest task is to find a video director to expand its concept.
In fairness, the delay is understandable. Aside from beating cancer and his production duties with a whole array of artists, Nile has also been caring for his mother, who has been placed in a facility to deal with her stage five Alzheimer’s.
“I don’t have peaceful days any longer,” he says. “I wake up every morning and see nothing but a shell of that person I knew. Or I get her on the phone and she can only talk about the most frivolous subjects. This woman was mega intellectual, it breaks my heart.
“She just wants to be around people. She wants to tell her story. And she tells it over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. But that’s what she seems to cherish more than anything, is just engagement.”
He finds himself growing anxious when at the facility and – praising the blessings music has offered him – says he often starts playing guitar to calm the nerves during visits.
Extremely appreciative of his gift, Nile has managed to sprinkle his gold dust on dozens of artists. From Bowie to Diana Ross to Madonna and Daft Punk, his eclecticism is somewhat ridiculous. He’s always worked regularly in Britain but it seems to have heightened in recent years as he headed to the studio with the likes of Laura Mvula, NAO, Mura Masa and Sigala.
He says he cannot believe NAO – who coined the term “wonky funk” to describe her style – is not “the biggest star in the world”.
Quietening his voice into almost a squeak, he adds excitedly: “She’s amazing. I had her singing all these different ideas for hours and hours and hours and she just didn’t stop. It was incredible.”
The oldest of the acts he cites is Mvula, at 31, and I question whether he always surrounds himself with younger creatives to keep his funk-infused finger firmly on the pulse.
“It’s no more important to work with them than it is to work with older artists,” he says, and launches into a beautiful appraisal of youth.
“When I was younger, I didn’t think the world was going to implode,” he says. “I didn’t think my mum was going to die. I didn’t think I’d have cancer twice. I just thought about expressing myself through music.
“And I appreciated others who did the same, and maybe that’s why the music I’m making on the most part sells to youth because the problems of the world don’t distract them as much. Or they typically don’t spend as much time thinking about it, that’s the wonderment, and the great part of being young.
“You can be young and idealistic and when you’re doing something, even if that thing may not move the needle, inside it makes you feel like a million dollars.”